


Don't Panic

by filthycasualsmark (exalteranima)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Attempted Reconciliation, M/M, Secret Relationship, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:06:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exalteranima/pseuds/filthycasualsmark
Summary: Dean chose the absoluteworsttime to try and make amends with Seth.Set right after the July 10, 2017 episode of Raw.





	Don't Panic

Dean still wasn't sure why he did it, what on earth compelled Seth to come to his rescue after that MizTV segment. Last Dean checked they _still_ weren't friends, and he made that abundantly clear on live television when Seth approached him backstage. The nerve of that little fucker, pulling the Shield reunion card like millions of fans around the world weren't creaming their pants over the same thing.  

Nuh-uh, nada, no way Jose. Dean would have to be a goddamn idiot to fall for that. Roman still isn't giving Seth the time of day, so why should Dean have to?

So when the fuckin' Miztourage pops in at the end of the show to corner Seth after Bray Wyatt poofs into nothingness  _(like he always fucking does),_ Dean still can't explain what drove him to run out there, steel chair in hand, and scare the Wonder Trio away just as Raw was going off the air. Seth didn't even have time to reach out for a handshake when Dean bolted right out of there, speed-walked to the back and just ignored everyone he saw while heading straight for the showers. 

Freshly changed with all his bags safely stowed away in the back of his rental, Dean _should_ be on his way back to the hotel by now. And yet here he was killing time, chatting up the crew at the loading bay. He kept his hood up and his sunglasses on, trying and failing to operate the fidget spinner one lighting rig guy lent him. How these things ever caught on with the general public, he'll never know.

For some reason a part of Dean refused to leave, not until he sucked up and swallowed his pride and talked to Seth about their issues because that's what grown-ups are supposed to do. He was never one for... damn, what was it called again? _Self-examination,_  that's what it was.

Dean sat tight a little longer, parting ways with the crewmen after a sufficient amount of time had passed. He learned long ago it was a terrible idea to prowl about and explore while his coworkers were still in the building. Once he had the misfortune of dashing into a secluded conference room for a quick smoke, only to discover a tearful Emma still clutching her phone while wiping her makeup off with a tissue. He wound up sitting in that room cigarette-less for another twenty minutes while Emma buried her face in his jacket, hiccuping and sobbing about breaking up with her boyfriend. A helpless Dean could only pat her back in comfort, his heart breaking a little at seeing her world shattered to pieces. Eventually Dana and Alicia came and found them, rescuing Dean and gently escorting Emma back to the bathrooms to get cleaned up.

After a comfortable amount of time Dean reentered the backstage area, wandering the eerie, dimly-lit hallways in the direction of the main corridor where the locker rooms were located. As expected, the second-to-the-last door from the end of the hallway — the one Dean saw Seth wheeling his luggage into earlier this afternoon — still had light emanating from the bottom crack.

_Still the last guy to leave the building. As per damn usual._

Dean ambled over to the doorway, ran his hand over his face one more time before twisting the knob and pushing the door open. Well, here goes nothing.

"Hey Seth, can we — **OH JESUS** "

"Shit, fuck–"

" _Dean, what the hell!_ "

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Dean shouted, eyes screwed shut as he hurriedly pulled and slammed the door. He leaned his back against the wall, kicking himself for barging into the room without warning while struggling to wrap his head around what he just saw. 

Back during their Shield days Seth used to have a strict rule about _never_ fucking groupies in the arena, so he hadn't expected to walk in on him in the middle of the act. Then again, Seth _definitely_ wasn't fucking a groupie. Even with 217 pounds of lying dirty traitor straddling his lap, Dean could still recognize the owner of those taped fingers clawing Seth's tanned back, the black kickpads with the stylized "BC" logo, the clipped throaty wheezes as Seth gripped his short brown hair. Two sets of hips were thrusting and grinding furiously against each other as Seth's right arm was wedged between them in some indistinct tugging motion. Dean's blood froze when bright blue eyes looked right at him while Seth's mouth was on his lover's pale throat.

Yeah... that image was going to haunt Dean's dreams for a _looooooong_ time.

After an excruciating length of time Seth stepped into the hallway and shut the door. He was still in his ring tights, though the waistband was noticeably askew while an angry red mark bloomed just above the ridge of his collarbone. Dean raised his eyebrows, wondering if any other hickeys were scattered conspicuously across Seth's torso.

"Is he gonna be alright in there alone or–"

"He's getting changed. Showered. Dressed. Whatever." Seth's face and chest were still flushed, dark brown eyes blown with arousal and skin coated in a sheen of sweat. "What the _fuck_ are you even doing here, Ambrose?"

"Wanted to talk to you about earlier, 'bout me... saving you from Miz and his goons just now. Just wanted to tell you it changes nothing."

"Well, I got the message loud and clear," Seth fumed, arms crossed guardedly around himself while he bit his lip and darted his head back to the door every few seconds. 

_Christ, this is Emma all over again,_ Dean thought as he regarded his ex-best friend, his ex-mortal enemy wilting into himself like a scared child. He considered the other man in the room, the way he clung to Seth like a lifeline, the look of ecstasy and contentment on his face in that split second right before he saw Dean. And then there was the split second right after, when Seth roared at Dean in anger while curling himself protectively around the smaller man.

"You only get one chance, Ambrose," Seth said, posture tense and on the defensive. "So make it count."

"Seth," Dean hesitated, stumbling over the question he'd been wanting to ask. "How long were you and Bálor–"

"Does it matter? He was out since August. I blew my knee end of January. We both came back after Mania. You do the math, Ambrose."

Dean's only answer to that was a surprised "huh." He didn't realize ten months was enough time to fall into bed with the man who broke your shoulder and nearly ruined your career. Dean couldn't fathom forgiving someone that quickly for something that serious, nor holding them tight and looking up at them with that much love.

_Was_ it love? Dean wasn't sure. Seth hasn't been the same ever since Triple H betrayed him, and Dean wondered if that event was connected to Bálor's injury the way he thought it was. Noone knew what the fuck Seth did anymore while on his own, without any spring in his step or any Authority nipping at his heels. Come to think of it, Bálor was something of a solitary cat himself. Dean had _no_ idea what the man was like outside of a few NXT vignettes and chance encounters backstage.

Seth leaned his back against the wall beside Dean, falling to the floor and burying his face in his hands while heaving loud, hollow sobs. As Dean bent down on his haunches to check if Seth was alright, he started to wonder just how _much_  he hadn't seen, what else he was missing about the full picture. 

"They're hurting him because of me," Seth's muffled voice muttered from between his fingers. "I never wanted to– didn't mean to– if anything happened to Finn I'd–"

"Easy Seth," Dean said lamely, feeling like he was talking to a wounded animal.

"I'll never forgive them," Seth whispered in hushed tones of regret and rage. "I'll never forgive myself. If they touch Finn I'll–"

"Seth?"

Dean looked up from their spot on the ground as Finn emerged from the room, now dressed in a clean sweatshirt, cargo shorts and sneakers. Finn immediately sank down to the floor in front of Seth, tenderly taking his face in his hands and speaking to him in low whispers. Dean couldn't make out much other than the gentle shushing sounds mothers often made to small children, some vague words of comfort, stray endearments like "love" and "darlin'" and "babe."

After a few moments Finn pulled Seth to his feet, prompting Dean to stand up as well. He felt like an intruder on a private moment, looking away as Seth wrapped his arms around Finn's shoulders, Finn placing his hands on Seth's waist as they exchanged a single kiss and touched their foreheads together. Finn murmured something else to Seth, prompting the younger man to quickly peck his lips before pulling away and disappearing back into the now-abandoned locker room.

Now left standing in the empty hallway, Dean and Finn stood awkwardly in each other's company. Dean buried his hands deep in his pockets and turned his gaze to the floor, uneasy with the prospect of looking his former teammate's new lover and mortal weakness right in the eye.

"'M sorry you had to see that," Finn said haltingly. "It's just been a... rough couple of months. Me, Seth, this stuff with Joe and Bray and the title–"

"Hey, I get it man," Dean cut in. "Don't need to explain anythin'. Your secret's safe with me."

"I'm not sure you understand. After Seth and Hunter–"

"Like I said, I get it. Just pretend I was never here." Dean made to walk backwards up the hallway, preparing to leave the way he came. 

"Dean?" Finn called out.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's not much but... thank you. For what you did for Seth earlier. For comin' out here this late. For... bein' understanding about us."

"'S no big deal, really." Dean idly tapped his boot on the floor. "I... you'll take care of him, right? Seth can be–"

"I know."

"He overthinks–"

"I know."

"He's full of himself–"

"I know."

"He's a whiny little shit–"

"I know." Finn chuckled fondly.

"He can be a fuckin' diva sometimes, but..." Dean ran a hand through his damp hair, finally making eye contact with Finn. "He's got a good heart. Dumb as fuck, but a good heart. He's loyal when it counts, and when he cares about something... when he loves–"

"I know." 

Not sure what else to do, Dean lays a heavy hand on Finn's shoulder. Finn's smile was small but brave, his posture resolute and fearsome enough to make Dean feel three inches tall in comparison. Dean sighs and nods his head, turning his back to Finn and walking around the corner, never stopping until he reaches the exit and heads back to his waiting rental in the parking lot.

As he makes the short drive to the hotel, Dean's thoughts keep drifting back to Seth and Finn. Two crazy kids with a flair for drama who found each other after competing for the same strawberry jam championship belt, and then both getting benched from injury and hooking up in rehab, their careers now at risk courtesy of the same big-nosed strings-pulling sledgehammer-loving egomaniac who made them both stars in the first place. Wrestling really was a fuckin' weird business.

_Maybe that closure thing with Seth can wait another day,_ Dean thought.


End file.
